by Mallory Fox
“... oh and Gabriella got married over the summer.”
“What? But she’s barely twenty. How? Why?”
“I’ve no idea why. Probably not for love. I mean he’s gorgeous of course but I imagine her parents forced her.”
“Arranged?”
Flick shrugs.
“Why the hell would she agree to that?”
Flick pauses, her green eyes settling on mine briefly, then darting away.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say no. He’s an absolute dish. I would tap it in exchange for my freedom. He could tie me to bed post and use me whenever he wanted.”
“Flick, you have issues...”
“No, I have vagina.”
I’m surprised but not shocked. The Fox Lanes are notorious for shrewd but often insensitive business arrangements. Forcing their only daughter to shack up with some prince? If it makes good business sense, why not.
Flick swipes at her phone. “Oh here, look.” She shows me her screen. On it is a papped shot of Gabriella half dressed on a beach in Brazil. Next to her in only a pair of trunks and a tight t-shirt is a what looks to be veritable sex god. Dark, brooding, and inked to the nines.
“She wasn’t at the ceremony was she?”
“Nope. Gabriella is missing first term. She’s not back until Easter.”
“Easter? Why don’t I know about this? When did she tell you?”
Gabby is meant to be living with us this year. I trust her as much as Flick. Well, I used to. I haven’t heard from her all summer but I was busy with Davis so I assumed she was giving us space.
“After you and Davis... it was like this guy just showed up.”
“It’s a bit sudden.”
Flick gnaws at her lower lip. “Um, do you blame her?”
Well I guess it’s just you and me then for a while.” I say with a tight smile. I haven’t spoken to Gabby since she caught us, Davis and me, kissing at her birthday. All I can say is I had my reasons.
One of the positives of having Flick as a friend is she doesn’t delve too deeply into those reasons.
“Oh my gosh, I can’t wait to see the house. I bet it’s amazing! Can we open a bottle of champagne and do pamper treatments in our negligee?”
I can’t help but stare at my best friend like she’s insane. “Do whatever you want.”
“Ohh, we could do shots?”
I shake my head. “If I’m not going to a party tonight, I’m certainly not doing shots!”
Two hours later, we end up doing shots. Small ones, with a lot of salt and lemon.
Fuck tequila. It’s lethal on an empty stomach. I resist the urge to throw up while Flick cranks the music up to near breaking point and prances around our open-plan kitchen slash living room like she’s the type of Madonna who’s never been a virgin.
Against my better wishes, and my new religion of getting through this year with the least amount of stress as possible, I’m dressed in a tight gold bandage dress with matching, ribbon-laced, fuck-me high heels. My silver tipped hair is teased to hell, and I’m wearing soft smokey eyeshadow and shimmery make-up.
It like the first year all over again. Only this time Flick is living with me which makes slipping into bad habits somewhat easier. As blonde as I am brunette, and twice as tough, Flick is my Achille’s heel. I can’t say no to her.
She grins as she knocks back yet another glass of champers, looking super hot in a silver mirror wrap-dress with matching stilettos. We look like the sun and moon when we finally have a selfie together.
By the time Henry appears to chauffeur us to a local club, not the fresher’s party Flick would prefer, I’m already half cut.
Like a seductive song, the socialite siren has snuck up on me and beckoned me into its arms. This is what I was trying to get away from. This is why I went to Paris. Being in the middle of Switzerland with Flick, with nothing to do but drugs and other students, is a disaster waiting to happen.
I haven’t looked at my phone since I got the number trace back from IT, but every now and then I find my eyes drawn inexplicably to where it is on the side table. It keeps buzzing, which means people from the management or the board, or even Sully, need to talk to me. They know better than to call me on a Monday night.
Not unless it’s urgent.
I contemplate leaving my phone altogether, but that’s almost like to leaving my soul at the door. I hesitate, but only for a second, and grab it, forcing myself out the door and into the waiting car before I can change my mind.
Tomorrow. I’ll deal with it all tomorrow.
Chapter 3
Pearl
“Bollocks. This club is just too boring for words,” Flick moans, downing her cocktail with one hand while beckoning the hostess over with the other.
“You wanted to come here,” I say, making an effort to sip my own drink slowly. Ever since we arrived Vendetta, a private member’s club belonging to Lourdes and Lottie Harper, we’ve been drinking heavily.
“No, I wanted to go to the fresher’s party, not some overpriced nightclub.”
I raise my brow at Flick’s use of the word ‘overpriced.’
“Vendetta is exclusive. You adore exclusivity.”
“What’s exclusive about it? You flash your tits at the doorman and he lets you in. No questions asked.”
I laugh into my champagne. “Is that what we did?”
“I did… you did nothing of the sort. My baps got us in here. Yours are all bandaged up like you’re off to win trampoline at the Olympics.”
I may have chosen my dress with the club in mind so I don’t deny it. But Flick loves a good flirt so I didn’t comment on her choice of attire.
We could buy membership here if we wanted to. We just don’t need to. And true to form, It’s been a night of plastic smiles and comparing plastic body parts, as well as showcasing designer labels. So much cheek kissing and hugging my neck has started to ache. I’d forgotten how tiring and poisonous the fake faction can be.
The Harper Twins are the epitome of Swiss Royalty. If it’s not who you know, it’s who you’re fucking, or worse which backwater country you’re taking over on the weekend.
As it stands, I’m itching to leave though I really should stay. I’ve had nothing but missed calls from the unknown number and numerous messages asking me what the new key code is to the gates surrounding the lake house.
I pull my phone out and finally check the message from digital security… the response is ‘untraceable’.
I know it’s Seth, because who else would be threatening to call the police if I don’t let them into their house. Not Gabby.
If my step-brother being off-grid can cause problems for the advanced security team managing the Darlington account, what hope do we have for them pin-pointing the location of an evil hacker?
At least, if I’m not home Seth can’t physically threaten me.
He’ll need to find me first.
“Top up?” Flick asks, as the waiter appears.
“Are we really going to get wasted the night before our first day?” I shake my head and place my empty glass on the tray. All this drinking has given me a headache.
And I might just kill someone if they ask me again what charity I’m the face of this year or if I plan on hunting at Loxley over the holidays. One day back and already I’m being asked to kill innocent animals just for fun.
“Just one more, you never know who you might meet,” Flick grins, wiggling her brows.
“No one here is worth looking at,” I say, sighing into my drink. Since when did we have to be rotten drunk to hook up?
Maybe I’m speaking too soon, or the universe is out to get me, because at that moment Seth walks in. A dark look on his face and a swagger in his step. Dressed in all in black and looking very much out of place against the backdrop of crisp white shirts, bow ties and blazers.
Storm hanging over his head aside, he’s clearly the best looking guy in the room.
“How did that fucker find me?” I hear myself say.<
br />
“Is that your brother? Is he a member here then?”
“Step-brother.” I say, barely able to breathe.
“Oh, we go should over and say hello, right? It’s rude not to…”
My hand closes around Flick’s wrist before she can so much as take a step in his direction.
“No... hold on.” I shake my head. “I’d rather not.”
“Really? Why?”
“I... I just don’t want to speak to him.”
Not after he was so damned rude.
I would also prefer to speak to him alone but I can’t say that to Flick.
“Okay, so we spy on him from afar.” she shrugs. “We’ll have to buy our own drinks but spying sounds fun.”
I nod, feeling numb inside, unable to take my eyes from him. I’ve no idea how he found me or when he got so hot. A spate in military school did him good. Still, not my type. I bet he’s turned into an even bigger asshole.
My breath catches as he looks my way and I’m caught as the observer.
Liar.
Emboldened by the lavish amount of alcohol in my system, I stick my tongue out at him. Childish I know, but how do you behave around someone who’s supposed to be family but not, supposed to be dead but not. After a moment he takes out his phone and types a message and my own phone, tucked safely in my clutch, vibrates.
Then he looks up, the muscle in his jaw twitching, dark eyes burning into mine.
“He’s totally checking you out and not me. I’m super jealous.”
“No he isn’t, we fucking hate each other.” Flick must be blind. He’s looking at me like he wants to murder me.
He probably does.
I’ve kept him sitting outside the house for the last three hours on his bike if the lake house security cameras are anything to go by. Lucky for him it’s not that cold outside.
Lucky for me he rides a bike. Maybe he’ll kill himself again and save me the trouble.
“What’s the deal with you two anyway?”
“Nothing worth repeating. He’s old news.”
“Oh I don’t know, he looks like new and tasty news to me.”
“He’s broken Flick, don’t go there.” My voice is devoid of emotion. I’m glad. I can’t afford to let him rile me up like he did at La Roche. Bad things happen when I’m upset. It was Davis who got the brunt of it.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I give my friend a warm smile. Of course she wouldn’t. Flick has my back like always.
“Is he still looking over here?”
“Um... yes.” Flick nods.
I grab a glass of champers off a tray as it passes. “Sod it, let’s get drunk.”
Flick grins, taking a large swig of her own drink. “Good to see you’re still the ruling ‘Queen of The Night’ I’ve come to know and love.” She sings the ‘queen of the night’ part with a voice that could give Mariah a run for her money.
“I think that’s you dear Felicity, I could never steal your crown.”
My friend sighs and giggles. “London wasn’t the same after you left for Paris. I still don’t see why you took that hideous internship with Cartier & Cavendish anyway.” She shudders visibly to drive home the point.
“You know why I left.” I say absently.
Flick quirks a brow at me. “Gabby still hasn’t forgiven you?”
“I doubt she will for a long time.”
“She’ll come round. She has to.”
No she doesn’t though I don’t say this out loud. Flick paints a sweet picture, but she’s forgetting one small problem.
Davis.
On other side of the terrace, as though materializing directly from my thoughts, Gladstone and his wanker friends, Jace Manning, Hugo James Carver The Third, and Fletcher Billingsworth, arrive. Before I can pretend I’m not here, Davis catches my eye with his own narrowed ones, his mouth set in a thin straight line.
I feel the stirrings of irritation. How did I end up caught between Seth on one side of the room and Davis on the other?
“What’s with it with men stalking me today?”
Flick follows my eye-line and gasps. “Saints alive. Everyone is here. Maybe you don’t need to flash the bouncer.”
“I knew this would happen.” I stare into my glass. “Is he coming over?” I glance up at Flick, my teeth gritted so hard my jaw is beginning to ache.
“Who? Your brother or Davis?”
“Either.... Davis.”
“Oh, Davis is most certainly coming over. Do you want to talk to him?”
“God no, let’s go. I’m done here.”
Over the crowds of trust fund babies adorned in their Sunday best, I spy Seth, still fixated on me, leaning at the bar. He’s drinking a beer so dark it matches the color of his shirt. He’s so out of place.
“Come on, let’s go.” I stalk past Flick taking her hand in mine, pulling her behind me.
“Where?”
“Home.”
“Why? We’ve still got drinks!” She hisses.
I knock my glass back, finishing it in one. “Not anymore.”
I steer Flick, swaying slightly, toward the car. Henry gets out and helps me maneuver her into the back seat. As soon as the cold air hit us she kind of passed out, which is a good thing. I need to be alone to do what I want to do next.
“Look after her for me, I’ve got to back inside for a minute,” I say to Henry. I walk around the back of the car to the club entrance, taking out my phone out as I go. The message as I expected is from the same unknown number...
Nice one trying to hide from me.
Now what is the key code or do I have to come over there and spank it out of you?
A thrill rushes through me on reading it but I quell it down as I push my way back through the crowd, and finally back into the club. I try to scan the crown when I reenter the terrace but it’s difficult with the heels I’m wearing since I’m shorter than most. And with the light blazing across the rooftops...
The sun has almost set, casting a pretty glow over the whole lake and surrounding town. If I was feeling whimsical I’d stop and watch it, but as it stands I’m edgy as fuck.
I need to find Seth.
I also don’t want to bump into Davis. I’m here for one thing and one thing only.
To speak to Seth.
Alone.
After five minutes of excusing myself and squeezing through gaps between people, I eventually spy Davis through an archway. But Seth... he is still no where to be seen..
There’s a familiar prickle of someone watching me. It’s uncomfortable enough that I head back along the walkway which leads off to a self-serve cloak room. Flick and I brought coats, if I can’t find Seth the very least I can do is get our coats.
Entering the cloakroom area, I feel the presence of someone behind me.
Seth or Davis?
I go to turnaround but one hand snakes up my hip and locks solid around my waist, the other slips around my neck so I can’t breathe let alone escape, pushing me forward into the deserted room.
I stumble inside. Thoughts scattering in a thousand directions. Heart beating in my throat.
A familiar scent, one belonging to the past of clean soap and citrus, assails my senses, as well as a new one. Bergamot and cedar-wood. He leans in, breath hot on the shell of my ear. He towers over me, much taller than he ever was and much more imposing.
Seth.
“You should have left when you had the chance,” he drawls.
“Why... why are you here?” My voice sounds high pitched and strangled. He does have his fingers locked around my throat. I force my body to breathe and try again. “What are you doing here?”
“Why, saying hello to my little step-sister of course.” He tightens his hand around my waist.
“Get... your hands off me,” I gasp, digging my nails into the flesh of his arm, struggling helplessly. I lift my heel and jab it into the shin of his leg. I’m not counting on him releasing me so I stumble forward when he does, w
rapping his hand around the back of my neck instead, propelling me into a rail of coats. Handling me easily as if I was a rag doll.
How dare he touch me. How dare he fucking touch me!
“You know I could hold you here until you stop breathing and no one would ever know.”
Panic surges in my chest. He’s right. Pushed up against a wall of fur and fabric, I can’t quite fill my lungs. I open my mouth to scream but all that comes out is a muffled cry as swathes of material, intent on choking me into submission, gets in the way of air.
Heart pounding, chest ready to explode, I flail against him. He’s so powerful. How did he get so strong?
I’m going to die here.
“But where’s they fun in that?” He chuckles as he lets me go.
Gulping down sweet air, I spin around until I’m facing him, panting hard like I’ve run a marathon. My lungs feel like they’re on fire.
“Fuck Seth! What the hell?!” I exclaim. “Are you trying to kill me!”
“Original and fetching. Lovely to see you too, Sis. I see you’re wearing an irresistibly slutty outfit while running your mouth off to boys a lot bigger than you. You haven’t changed a bit have you?” He reaches up to tease a loose strand of hair off my face.
I slap his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He smirks, leaning in until I smell the alcohol on his breath and the soapy citrus under his aftershave.
He’s been drinking.
A lot.
“Still trying to order me about Pearl? After what you did to me?”
“I locked you out, big deal.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.”
“Oh that, you did it to yourself.”
“If I recall correctly, you were the one who set me up. You were a psychotic bitch then, still are now if what Sully says is true.”
I scowl at him, making a mental note to have it out with Sully, my own anger rising steadily. A hurricane creeping under my skin. He’s doing what he always does, provoking me so I’ll lash out.
I inhale deeply and squash the rage down as far as I‘m able. I don’t need to lose my shit right now. Not when I’m just as drunk as he is.